Seven Days In Captivity
by A-Dreamer-Needs-A-Hero
Summary: A seven chaptered fic centered on Jasmine and Mozenrath. Rating is due to change. Slightly AU. Please let me know your thoughts, for it helps with the writing process. New Chapter finally! xD
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything in here but the plot.**

**Reviews and critisism are loved. That's how I improve. Looking for BETA readers. Check out my other Aladdin story, 'Crushed Sand'.**

Prologue:

She could only prolong her death for so long, and the time that she had been holding the evil sorcerer at bay captive by amusing banter was swiftly coming to a close. The smooth, horribly cold gauntlet pressed into the junction of her neck, and she could feel the barest sensation of thin bone covered by the soul stealing leather magical item.

This was it. Fate was making this her time to die. Though most princesses would have been crying, no sobbing in terror and pleading brokenly for this monster to let them go, but she refused to stoop to their level. All princesses had some form of pride that had been embedded into them the second that they were born, but her pride ran along deeper than most did, curling into her stomach and brain and heart, refusing to let her fear show through and stoop so low as to beg.

Princesses, the ones who would grow up to be powerful and astute rulers of their kingdoms, ones who would become Sultanas that would save their kingdoms, did not beg.

And Jasmine was not about to let herself become the one who broke that unspoken law.

Besides, dying by Mozenrath's hand was far better than to be kept alive. Death would become her unwanted savior, as any further delay of the inevitable would be far worse than walking among the living. When you were dead, you didn't have to deal with being tortured and broken, beaten and spit upon, or have to wake up to every new sunrise dealing with a sense of hopelessness and licking the wounds that destroyed your pride. Wounds that were embedded into your being, rather than by physical or mental means of destruction, by someone who you could not bow down to. Someone who had taken away all sense of meaning in your life, until all you knew was that you were living, and that was not something that was sustainable for living.

Wordlessly, she stared up into the lifeless eyes of the man who had set his sight on taking away everything that was dear to her. He was the one being- for he was no human, humans couldn't do the devastating destruction of ones soul like he could- that could force her hand. He could be the one to make her bow to his will, for he had advantage, and she felt as though she had nothing left.

Jasmine even went as far as to wish for Jafar, Selene, anyone but him, for they couldn't have the capability of killing and taking away everything precious in life like he could.

"Well," The voice murmured, the voice of her crazed executioner. "I suppose it would be best to get on with it."

And suddenly, her windpipe was cut off from any oxygen trying to enter her system. Caught by surprise, the princess gaped wordlessly, her feet flailing as her dainty shoes fell off and she was lifted up into the air with a force unlike anything she had ever had the horror of witnessing before. Her eyes began to water, not crying, but because she was suffocating, and hated the idea of how he could interpret her body's reaction.

The logical side of her brain attempted to soothe her, reminding her of the fact that it would soon be over, and all of those days spent screaming for a release from this nightmare would suddenly come to a close. There would be no more fighting, no more crying herself to sleep at night from the wounds on her back or the loss of her loved ones, and no more unpleasant, grueling conversations with this inhuman beast that wore the disguise of a mortal.

Jasmine's eyelashes fluttered as her tanned eyelids moved down to cover her pained almond eyes. A release, she told herself, the word release becoming a mantra to help ease the pain of death. Don't fight it, don't fight your release.

Another side of her brain kicked in, waking her up from the momentary pleasure of forgetting all of her current surroundings and of the loathsome foul hand of death crushing her windpipe in a lethal grip. She became acutely aware of everything even more than she had been before, as if she had unknowingly tapped into a sixth sense. And then the pain came back, clearer than before as well.

The grip of skinless hand from underneath the gauntlet served to send an icy sensation, something so freezing to the point that it was almost unbearably hot, to her neck that it was crushing. Though she could not see it, the skin there was turning purple and blue, and her whole body was beginning to lose her coloring, the skin becoming pale instead of the healthy tan that it normally was.

Now there was no chance for numbness. Even as she lost oxygen, even as she wheezed for sweet breaths, her body refused to let her lose any feeling in her limbs. Snapping her head up to face the monster that was going to end her, with a raging fire in her eyes and a darkness that matched the sand that had consumed her lovely kingdom of Agrabah and all of its people residing in it, Jasmine decided unwillingly that she could not die today. She had to save her kingdom.

Her lips curled back into a snarl, something unfitting on a beautiful face such as hers, as both of her hands groped for a hold onto the gauntlet covered hand. The differences between the two were even more obvious than before, the size of his hand overpowering the effect of her tiny little ones. Even if they were in the citadel alone, even though he had the advantage, she refused to be bested by him.

Jasmine longed to say something, to spit at his face or have the ability to tackle him to the ground and hit him with everything that she had. She didn't have enough air in her to speak. She could taste the acrid taste of blood coming from her crushed windpipe and rotting flesh from the fortresses air. The combined scent made her senses reel in disgust, but she blocked them from her mind to focus on getting out of the citadel alive and in one piece.

After she tried to kick him with her flailing limbs, Mozenrath finally seemed to have realized that she was attempting to fight back.

"I'm surprised you still have some fire left in you," He exclaimed with some sense of surprise, though nothing more than as a passing thought. The sorcerer even allowed her to witness some ounce of emotion on his face, little but enough to show his condescension by curling his lips up into a whisper of a smirk. The evil equivalent of a smile only grew more pronounced as her flailing continued. Oh, how deliciously furious she was. Her anger, her crazed hatred for him burned off of her like fiery flames, and he eagerly consumed the emotions that served to swell his ego.

Leaning down, only causing her to glower at him even more, still gaping like a fish out of water he lowered his head towards her ear, as if he were about to divulge an exciting secret.

"And to think, I had thought that I had beaten all of that out of you." His voice, sleek and smooth swished through the dense air like the wings of a raven, traveling till it reached the hollow of her ear.

With her heightened senses, she could feel everything. Feel the words pound into her head, feel his breath ghost onto the skin of the nape of her neck and into her ear, each puff of air only helping to make her realize what she couldn't do: breathe. Her eyes were beginning to see spots of light. Maybe now a higher being up there was going to let her pass on in peace. It still burned her throat far too much for her liking, and Jasmine screamed a wordless cry, a noise that came out hoarse and scratchy.

Her eyes widened, and she would have whimpered if possible when she heard the sound of something beginning to snap in her neck.

This was it.

Mozenrath's face loomed down into her eyes, locking his dead gaze onto her raging eyes and refusing to lose eye contact.

"Now princess, what have you been sobbing to me in your cell night after night for? I could have sworn it was for a release. This is it. What, not what you were expecting?"

Jasmine ignored his question, her mind growing weary with a loss of oxygen, and was filled with a sense of accomplishment when she realized how her stubbornness had allowed to her live for this long. The prolonged pain of dying was her price to pay for it, but at least she could know that her enemy could never honestly admit that she didn't put up a fight. She realized now that he was far too strong for her tiny and frail body to overpower him. Slowly but surely, she began to give up.

Her head knocked against the wall, and their noses brushed at the lightest of contact, Mozenrath's face calm and composed, hers weary and pained. Their breath mingled together, perfuming the air with the scents of blood and wine.

"Hmm," He began, apparently deep in thought. She could easily imagine the gears turning in his mind as he mulled over ideas in his head.

Ideas of what, she wondered brokenly. How he was going to end her?

"Well," He murmured, and she feared that he would say the same words that he had said before that would reinforce her death sentence.

"You would be far more of an amusing prisoner alive than dead and decaying. Besides, being a mamluck wouldn't suit a cute princess like you, now would it?" His voice was mocking now, taking in her desperate expression with amusement.

He kept his hold on her neck as she took in the sound of her windpipe crushing a moment longer before he released her. She writhed on the floor in relief to get oxygen, greedily gulping in mouthful after mouthful of sweet, precious air that she had no access to only seconds before. She was still in pain, but earlier when she had felt the searing pain of death; those minutes tortured her by having her believe that the time had stretched far too long into infinity

Jasmine was still gripping her mind around the idea that a boned hand covered by a soul stealer no longer had its disgusting grip on her neck and that she could breathe, she could move without protest, when she was grabbed by the back of her sleeveless top.

"Well, back to the darkness then princess. We'll talk again when your dashing street rat in shining armor is one of my guards. Don't be disappointed if there is a limb or two missing, I'll try not to completely decimate him, though I'm making any promises." He followed his disturbing sentiment with a cruel, light laugh.

Jasmine watched the inky blackness take hold of her eyes and lost her train of thought. There was only the suffocating darkness left to take hold of her mind as she blacked out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Seven Days in Captivity**

Chapter Two: Day One

It shouldn't have come to her as a surprise that the first thing she would wake to after watching her precious city go up in black flames would be suffering. The hurt was everywhere. Her bones ached, her tongue was dry and mouth was sore, the muscles wrapped around bone strained and in some places torn. Her eyes were dry as well as the inside of her throat, blinking in pain when realizing that she couldn't produce tears anymore.

_Where….Am I?_

Jasmine felt the urge to vomit, but nothing would come out, so as her back hunched over for her to perform the motion she only felt the ache course through her body. Death swam into her hazy line of thoughts, but her almond shaped eyes could clearly see the dank and dark dungeon that surrounded her from every angle. Moonlight poured in through slits of rusted metal grates above her head, and water leaked through cracks in the rough stone walls, the noise pounding again and again in her ears. She couldn't be dead.

Letting out a hoarse moan of discomfort, her body suddenly froze, waiting. She felt as if she was waiting for a voice to speak. The girl-though slowly going along the road that would lead to womanhood-was then brought into severe disappointment. No voice answered her desperate thoughts. Her cracked lips even moved to form a small frown at being responded to silence.

_Why aren't I in Agrabah?_

Again, even as her body was pained in her frozen stance, Jasmine continued to be graced with the presence of disappointment. No one responded. Though it hurt to shut her eyes, she did and moved her lips to make a sound that crossed between a cry and a scream. Her dry throat made it come out as more of a croak.

_I have failed._

Her only thoughts lead to more anger and helplessness, knowing that somewhere away from where she was, her dear city and its entire population was being burned by the black flames that plagued her kingdom as she could do nothing.

When chains clinked in her ears, her eyes widened in disbelief, only now coming to the conclusion now that she was chained….to a crumbling wall. She couldn't see it behind her, as the chains that confined her didn't have links long enough to allow her to bend her head back far enough.

Somehow the aching that coursed through her slender being was left to a small dull intensity of what it was. Possibly it was the temperature-which was freezing her body to near numbness- combined with the fact that water swirled near her shapely legs and pressed down palms. Her eyes took in the mud that mixed on the dungeon floor, and her hands clenched to fists, straining the muscle as she pounded in onto the floor.

"I demand," She exclaimed, ignoring how raspy her voice was and the pain that accompanied it. "To know who has taken me from my city! Show your face you coward!"

Jasmine expected to be rewarded with a typical sleazy voice, one that oozed with disgusting evil and came with the body of a well fed aristocrat who got bored with his power. There was still nothing. When this happened, her eyes squeezed shut to attempt to block out the emptiness. It wasn't working.

She lay writhing on the floor in near madness, the sick feeling of helplessness and confusion poisoning her body for nearly an hour or more, and just when she was ready to give up and black out again, there was a small sound.

**Click**

Her honey colored iris's widened, and the noise caused her body to tense up.

**Click**

It sounded peculiarly like the sound of a boot hitting the cold dungeon floor. She didn't know whether this person was friend or foe, and was unsure as to what she should do. Should she lie down and feign sleep? Or would it only allow them easier access to harm her? They would most likely be an enemy considering the fact that they were walking very calmly, she could hear it in their stride.

Creak

A groaning of the wooden door opening enlightened Jasmine that this mysterious unknown person was finally within looking distance of. Her heart pounded in her chest, tittering wildly against her rib cage as she hoped for them to not harm her. She was only a princess, fragile and untamed in the ways of survival. Nor did she wish to have her mind toyed with. She was only somewhat educated book wise, and that was merely for manners and how to rule one's kingdom. Even then, she was only a woman. Women weren't privileged in the sense of knowing how to defend themselves. It was automatically assumed that a male would do the protecting for them.

_Whoever came up with those rules must never put themselves in my situation_, she thought to herself dryly, fear still burrowing it's way into the pit of her stomach.

She had yet to look up and face her possible captor. There was silence again. Steeling herself for the worst, Jasmine peered up into the eyes of the human. The brown orbs widened again in shock.

He couldn't have possibly been a year or two older than herself, in the physical sense. His body was thin and lean; she didn't have a doubt that beneath his elegant dark blue and black sorcerer robes that he processed a strong toned figure. Nor would she put it to chance. His hair was a head full of dark ebony curls, short enough to be considered tame. Most of it was covered by an elaborate matching turban that sat on his head.

"Are you my captor," Jasmine murmured wearily, but she kept her voice hard, as to not show intimidation. Weakness in front this man seemed that it would only lead to her being humiliated. His eyes, they were nothing but dark, deeply intelligent orbs.

Though he seemed of a high social status, he didn't seem to mind crouching down to her level, his gaze cool and collective.

"Actually, I prefer to be called Mozenrath," The male proclaimed, and his voice matched his eyes, smooth, sharp, and dark. "Captor seems so…well, vulgar in this situation."

"Kidnapping does tend to go down a vulgar alley," She exclaimed back, ignoring the rasp in her feminine voice.

She couldn't help but scowl when he let out a small chuckle, something that seemed to come straight from his chest in a light rumble. It wasn't something entirely unpleasant, though with the idea that this Mozenrath was indeed her captor, it only let something sickening roll down into the pit of her stomach.

"I suppose kidnapping does, yes," He responded back smoothly. "But I'd rather like to look like this in a different light. Being that it was my doing that led to the downfall of your kingdom-"

There was a pause, possibly for dramatic effect. To be honest, she couldn't tell.

"There would be some vulgarity that accompanies your being here. But, I myself didn't ask to have you here. My mamluks tend to be a bit…on the daft side. I had said to take no prisoners. Apparently Xerxes can't take orders."

Jasmine had no idea who Xerxes was, and the only thing in her that compelled her to want to know was the fact that she was left a little lost in the conversation. It was the same for these so called mamluks. Some part of her brain nagged her incessantly to remind her that with a man like him, she probably didn't want to know. The princess left her thoughts to herself.

Her thoughts must have been showing in her eyes, for Mozenrath immediately clarified.

"Mamluks are zombie soldiers that are under my control. The undead, in other words. As for Xerxes, he is simply my familiar, a creature that I have a bond with. He serves great magical purpose, but again, he too lacks a good head on his shoulders."

The man shrugged as if to say that it wasn't his fault in the matter.

She proceeded to stare at him as if he had grown two heads, possibly even three.

"Are you….apologizing to me? I honestly can't tell."

It seemed that for a second he thought she had grown a second head herself.

"When did you ever hear those words in my speech? I have no conceivable reason to apologize for anything."

He must have been an aristocrat previously before he resorted to evil, she thought to herself dully. He was now no different than any of the other power driven males in her own kingdom, handsome but rude. Terribly rude.

"(she let out a small sigh in her tiredness and exasperation) I must have been out of my mind," She quipped bitterly, her tone lacking any trace of warmth.

Then Jasmine was to first become overly familiar with his rather unexpected mood swings. Cold fingers gripped her chin to force her to look at him as he slammed her head into the rock behind her. She could hear a dull ring buzzing in her ears. Her body temperature wasn't warm enough for her to feel any pain from the bump on the back of her head.

"Indeed, you were. I apologize for no one, as I feel remorse for no one. You'll find in your stay here that backtalk done to me as an attempt to insult my person will result in nothing but your pain."

As she took in the cool voice that was laced with the slightest bit of venom, Mozenrath appeared to have noticed the fact that her body was almost completely numb. He had also shoved her head against the wall again to further emphasize his threat.

"Hn," He murmured in a cool, almost disinterested tone. She could feel the weight of his dark, intelligently cold eyes bore into her face, and she shivered at the way it made her feel. The sickening roll pushed into her stomach again, timing her emotions with the fact that she was starving and cold.

"You're surely going to catch a cold in a day or two. This is not to be blamed on myself, for prisoners shouldn't been given any special treatment. However, having you die on me when you haven't done anything particular to cause me to slaughter you wouldn't be very sensible. If you want proper bedding and a meal, give me an apology befitting of you captor."

If she wasn't so numb, tired, and hungry, she would have laughed in his face as the incredulousness of what he asked of her. Her survival needs cut into her what she wanted to voice aloud, so she pushed her opinion and thoughts to herself.

"I….Apologize for my rudeness." _No matter how well deserved it was._

He let out a rather undignified snort.

"Surely you can do better than that. I would have figured Agrabah to teach their women more manners than that."

Just like Jafar, she hissed out in her mind. Selfish, arrogant and prejudice against women. Her eyes burned in anger, but Jasmine repeated to herself mentally that she needed his help to have another chance of surviving another day. Though she was still on her knees, she bowed her head in a form of respect to him once he had released her chin, her eyes honey colored flames that he couldn't see through the tangled curtain of her ebony locks.

"Please forgive me for my impudence Mozenrath," She exclaimed in a reverent tone, hoping it would appeal to him if she used his name.

Expecting the answer to her apology as to be shown to a warm place with bedding and food for her rumbling stomach, she was instead met with disappointment. One of his booted feet nudged an open hand.

"I suppose you don't really want a chance to get well again. Oh well, have it your way."

Something inside her snapped. Her eyes saw nothing but his back as he turned from her to exit the dungeon door, and while he was still in reach, she lunged at him.

That was her second mistake, so closely following the first. His anger appeared once again, knocking her against the wall without a thought, watching her as she slid to the ground pitifully. He scoffed at her injured form.

"I don't respond to impudence," Mozenrath exclaimed. "It seems my attempt at civility has alas been ruined. Very well, stay in this dank dungeon with the rats. Enjoy your rather dismal stay here. I shall try this again tomorrow."

With a sweeping of his midnight blue cloak, the dungeon returned to darkness once again as he left her presence.

Tears leaked from the corner of her eyes, small and few but still there. She attempted no movement from her aching body's position on the floor, choosing to remain in pain.

"Why," She hissed out, and her voice was muffled into her arm.

She herself didn't know what she was asking the reason for, so there was of course no chance of a response to her confusion.

Her first night spent in that dungeon would not be her last. Not yet at least.


	3. Chapter 3

((Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.))

(Okay, this took a long time to write up, and I'm sorry the wait. I haven't forgotten any of my fanfictions. All of them are being worked on, especially Crushed Sand. Please let me know what you think of this chapter. I know Mozenrath is a tad too violent and Jasmine seems a little too weak. But remember, she's tired, sick, and starving.)

Sunlight burned her eyelids when she awoke to the second day of being held captive. Blearily rubbing her eyes, Jasmine situated herself up into a sitting position before taking a look at her surroundings again.

_Still here_, she thought to herself dully. _Who would've guessed it?_

She noticed that the temperature was warmer than it previously was in the dank dungeon. Her body wasn't quite so numb. A healthy tan had yet to return color to her skin though. Being hungry and sick, she was still rather pale.

_Not as pale as him though._

As soon as her captor appeared in her minds eye, Jasmine shoved the thought away. Her body shook in anger at just the thought of him.

_I need to get out of here_, she told herself firmly, and leaned her head back against the cool wet stone behind her. Beneath her hair the skin was still tender where she had been knocked against the wall by Mozenrath. She winced at the pain that came from the most likely bruised area, and moved her head back.

In a puddle that had formed around her feet and in front of her, Jasmine was able to see her reflection. It was a little blurry, but she took in her sallow skin, the tangled and dirt filled black hair, red rimmed eyes from lack of rest and small purplish color bruises forming near her neck and around the line of her jaw.

She felt disgraced. Princesses were supposed to be dignified. Here she was about as dignified as….a street rat.

Her heart ached for Aladdin at the thought of his horrible nickname that the upper class had given him. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and her thin fingers clutched at the clothing covering her heart. Though escape seemed impossible, as was the likelihood that anything in her town still remained after the destruction that had come to Agrabah, she just had to try.

It didn't take away from the fact of how horrible she felt. Her stomach felt as if it was trying to eat her insides, and all of her body seemed to throb now that blood was rushing through her veins again and she could feel all of the injuries that she had sustained in her stay here.

If she could convince Mozenrath that she could be of some use to him, would he let her leave? If she stayed sick as she was, he would just kill her off. She had no doubt on the fact that her life was literally in his hands and how quickly it could end. It was a priority to get better, otherwise she would end up rotting in this dank dungeon for the rest of her life, and she couldn't take that.

She kept her helpless position on the ground out of boredom, not having much room to move because of her chains. Soon enough, the first noises to hit her ears besides the dropping of water and the clank of chains was smooth footsteps. Her prison door creaked open again.

"Has someone changed their mind," Mozenrath questioned with a superior look in his eyes. A small smirk graced his lips.

Willing her face not to remain in a glare, she nodded her head.

"What do we say?"

Jasmine bit her lip so as not to scream at him. He was doing this on purpose to humiliate her. If groveling was what he wanted, then she had no choice but to deliver.

"I beg for your forgiveness for my ignorance," She told him softly.

"And what are you," Came the next question.

Jasmine was confused.

"I don't understand."

Mozenrath sighed.

"Where do you stand here?"

Her cheeks flushed in anger, finally understanding the implications of the question. Gritting her teeth together, she considered telling him to go to hell, but he probably would just kill her for insulting him.

"I don't hear an answer," He called, his dark eyes staring down at her as if she were an annoying creature who couldn't do as it was told.

Her mouth trembling in anger, she held back the words she truly wanted to say. Her eyes flashed at him, but he easily held her gaze.

"This is getting tiresome."

She could understand the warning behind the words. If he wasn't amused, she wasn't going to be living much longer. No wonder he was keeping her alive. The perfect toy to humiliate and take his anger out on. She prayed that there was no one out there with a temper like hers who would do so.

"Would you like me to say that I am worth nothing more than the dirt on your boots?"

She quirked an eyebrow, trying to gain back some of her usual confidence. Mozenrath stared in annoyance down her chained hands that were placed on each side of her curvy hips.

"That could be an answer," He murmured. "It would certainly be fairly accurate."

The red didn't disappear from her sallow colored face. He knew exactly what he was doing, the bastard.

"What would you like to say?"

"Oh," She snarled. "There are so many things that I would like to say to you, but I don't think you'll approve of any of them."

His booted foot came down on her leg. She winced, resting her head against the wall with an expression of pain.

"Has anyone told you what an insolent little girl you are? What gives you the right to talk to me like that? I'm wondering why I'm wasting my time with you."

"And you don't think I'm wondering the same thing," Jasmine bit back.

He stepped closer to her, a dangerous light in his eyes.

"Are you asking me to kill you then? So I don't have to bother with your whining self anymore? I think that would solve all of my problems."

Shit, that wasn't the idea she wanted to give him at all.

"Why do you hate me? I never met you before the attack on Agrabah. How could I have possibly done anything to anger you in this short time?"

He sneered down at her, and she was reminded of a younger, more handsome Jafar. That was with his personality and actions. His appearance however, made her think of Aladdin. He was a twisted, darker version of her love. Her stomach sickened at the connection she had made. She didn't WANT to compare this monster to Aladdin. He was too pure of a person to even be involved with that beast in the same sentence.

"What a stupid little girl. Do I need to have reasons to dislike you? Let's start with you personally. You are agitating, disrespecting my authority when I'm the one who has the upper hand. It also shows your stupidity in these moments."

His face seemed to get closer to her with every sentence he spoke. She hated the feel of his breath, looking that close at him. Her stomach rolled again, and she wasn't sure she could hold it down. Trying to stay brave, she shot him an icy stare, daring him to say more.

"Have I ever told you how much I HATE stupid? I really, truly can't tolerate it."

She turned her head away as he insulted her, acting almost as if she could protect herself from his jeers by looking away. A hand grabbed her chin tightly.

"I'm not done talking. You wanted an answer, and I'm not going to let you be an ungrateful spoiled brat and turn your head away. So LISTEN."

Jasmine struggled, shifting her face in his hand trying to move away. The chains clinked noisily in her ears and mixed with the sounds of her frustration.

"Look at me," He commanded in a harsh voice, and she realized how badly she was angering him. Stubbornly, out of instinct, she continued to ignore his wishes.

"LOOK AT ME!"

One of his hands pushed hard into her chest and knocked her body to the ground, her head scraping down the brick wall as she fell. Her mouth let out a loud cry of pain, and the back of her head stung as it bled.

"Now, let's consider the situation without involving your annoying personality. You are an unwanted prisoner. I wanted everyone in Agrabah left to rot. And yet, here you lie. So, for whose benefit am I keeping you alive for? You take up space in my dungeon, and waste my time annoying me. It would be so much easier for me to just snap your little neck and get it over with."

She wondered if he knew that she was starting to get black spots in her vision and his voice sounded as if it was coming down from a tunnel. She tried to pay attention to his words, but she was quickly growing too weak to keep herself awake.

"I am doing you a favor, and technically you've asked for it since you don't want me to kill you. So don't waste my patience or my time anymore than what you're doing by simply being here."

Jasmine tried to open her lips again, but things were too hazy to make sense. Her eyes fluttered shut slowly, opening a few more times before completely dropping. Her head finally fell still on the dungeon floor.

Mozenrath was quiet for a moment, observing the beaten princess that had been knocked unconscious. He didn't say anything, just merely stared.

"I think I may grow to regret this," He muttered, grabbing up the girl into his arms and taking her out of the dungeon. Passing two mamluks in the hallways that were patrolling, he pushed her towards one of them.

"Take her to a room. Find a bed and robes for her to wear. When she wakes, get her soup and a vial of blue serum in my study's cabinet."

Glad that that mess was over with, he turned down the opposite hallway and walked up the stone steps to his private chamber. The room was sparse, only a small bed with dark sheets and shelves of books and magical items surrounding the walls. A crystal ball sat on a small table, and he grabbed a handful of silver powder from a bowl. It was sprinkled on the object. At once the ball alighted with a glow, shining until a large image of an ugly flying creature appeared. It had pink flesh and beady eyes glazed with madness.

"I hope that you are taking care of problems in Agrabah," He questioned smoothly.

"Yes yes master," The creature shrieked. "All good. Sultan dead, heh heh heh heh." It continued to make snickering noises until Mozenrath gave him a cool glare.

It stopped mid laugh, and sucked in a sharp breath.

"You come see master?"

That was possibly an issue. Should he leave the temperamental childish princess alone with his dead mamluks? Give her the opportunity to get inventive? He couldn't chain her to the bed, because then there would be complications using the restroom. Smell carried through the citadel. Her room was just close enough to his own that was she to have to relieve herself in that situation; he would have to smell it. Mozenrath nearly made a face at the disgusting possibility.

No, he really should stay here. Xerxes looked weak, but he himself was a powerful tool for magic. He could easily ward off an army or two were he to be given some energy from his gauntlet.

"I'm sending an army of mamluks incase someone decides to visit Agrabah when they shouldn't. When they arrive, come back here and I'll give you supplementary energy, enough for you to put up an energy field and have enough power to look over the city for me."

The creatures pale pink flesh turned a darker shade with the joy of having some sense of responsibility. It eagerly nodded its head, too excited to be able to form words.

"Remember," He warned.

"You are in charge there, thus if something goes wrong, you will be blamed. I don't think you'd like a repeat performance from the last time you disobeyed me, now would you?"

Fear burrowed its way up into Xerxes eyes. Again, it nodded what would be the head of his body, wiggling in the air like a snake or slimy fish. Ugh, looking at him could make one ill. A faithful creature he may be, but eye pleasing he certainly wasn't.

Mozenrath turned his head away, losing interest in the conversation since he had said everything he needed to say.

"That's all." With a flick of his wrist, the crystal ball stopped glowing. His gauntlet burned on the bone beneath its massive shape, and he held in a breath at the discomfort. It seemed to suck life out of him every time he used it, an exchange of sorts. But it was a price- although certainly not a pleasant one- that he would pay for power. Power that would soon get him everything he ever wanted. It was simple in his eyes really: complete control.

Agrabah was his, and soon the neighboring cities would be his as well. Maybe once his stressful takeover was complete, he would finally end that pitiful girl's life. At least, if she wasn't dead from pissing him off first. That seemed like a very likely future for her if she hadn't learned by his little performance today.

All it would take is one time too many, when he just can't take stupidity one tiny bit at the moment, and he would snap. Snapping was very bad for the princess. That would mean she would have a very, very violent demise. Quick deaths were never something Mozenrath had been able to exert patience for. He was far too much of a perfectionist. Death had to be painful, and bloody. Messy possibly, but only in an artistic sense. To see that light of life finally flicker out of their eyes. That is what true murder was.

But at the very least, if she was scared into submission, she could prove to be of decent amusement, a way to waste his time when he had time available to waste. That loud mouth of hers could create some rather crafty comebacks, and he could always resort to beating her if he didn't like what he was hearing. If she started to annoy him and just be plain bratty rather than creative. The ball was in his court, he had the control. As long as it stayed like this, she'd be okay.

Idly he wondered: just how long was Jasmine going to last? If her fiery temper proved to be the best of her, he bet that she wouldn't last a week.


End file.
